


night or day, i'll get ya fixed

by notthebigspoon



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hadn't taken much convincing. After Buster had mentioned it, Brandon had tugged the handcuffs out of their hiding place in his suitcase. They're heavy, solid. He double checks the key and places it on a towel on the bathroom counter where it can't be knocked off before holding his hand up in front of Buster, the cuffs dangling from his fingertips.</p><p>Title taken from Come to Papa by Bob Seger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	night or day, i'll get ya fixed

It hadn't taken much convincing. After Buster had mentioned it, Brandon had tugged the handcuffs out of their hiding place in his suitcase. They're heavy, solid. He double checks the key and places it on a towel on the bathroom counter where it can't be knocked off before holding his hand up in front of Buster, the cuffs dangling from his fingertips. Buster watches him before shrugging, finishes stripping and slides into the tub. He doesn't give Brandon an indication either way of what he's thinking. Brandon hates it when he does that, hates having to guess what's going on inside Buster's head.

He moves to the tub and carefully settles into Buster's lap, pushing his boyfriend's hands over his head. He hooks the cuffs through the loop off the wall for the wash cloths, chews on his lip and eyes Buster before closing the cuffs onto the catcher's wrists. Buster gives it them an experimental tug before smirking at Brandon. He leans up, tries to get a kiss but the action puts too much strain on his shoulders and he sinks back. He looks a little annoyed by unconsidered consequences of the restrictions and Brandon grins. That's right. His turn to win.

Brandon just leans back against Buster's drawn up legs, one hand wrapping around Buster's dick, jerking him slowly. Buster groans, shudders, arches into it as his legs spread. Always there's the clinking of the cuffs and Buster's growls of frustration when he can only go so far. He's so used to being in control, having authority over every inch of his life and a lot of Brandon's. Brandon doesn't mind. It saves him from having to make up his mind about a lot of things himself. But he likes this change, likes seeing what the loss of control does to Buster, the way it makes him fall apart, desperate and needy.

“Shh.” Brandon whispers, pressing their lips together and breathing in Buster's next frustrated growl. He grips the base of Buster's cock, squeezes and laughs breathlessly when he hears Buster whimper. Brandon likes this. He likes to see Buster fall to pieces. “I'll give you what you want. I won't even make you ask for it. But I'm going to take my time.”

There's a snarl of frustration but Brandon doesn't pay it any mind. It's his turn. He's going to drive Buster completely out of his mind the way Buster has done so many times to him. Fingers first, with that silicone lube Buster had so smugly produced the time they'd fooled around in Brandon's hot tub. Buster's growling is growing steadily less coherent and by the time Brandon has maneuvered his legs and is pushing into him, he's making no sense at all, just panting Brandon's name and pulling at the handcuffs. Brandon pets a hand up his thigh, shushing him and telling him to be patient. They've got plenty of time.

Buster bites Brandon's lips in retaliation, hips snapping up. Well. Maybe enough teasing.

Brandon plants a hand on the tile above Buster's head, grips Buster's hips with the other, fucks him with slow rolls of his hips. There's a toe curling satisfaction in the way that Buster moans, high and pleading, coming without warning without Brandon touching his cock. It's enough to make Brandon lose control, fucking him hard enough that the water is sloshing and splashing over the sides of the tub. He comes groaning Buster's name and sprawls down over his chest, eyes closed as they trade lazy kisses.

He climbs out of the tube when he gets his breath back, fetches the key and unlocks the cuffs, places them on the counter with the key. Dries them both off with large, fluffy towels that he considers stealing before herding Buster into the bedroom. When the lights are off and Buster is the one curled into Brandon's chest for once, instead of the other way around, Brandon gently massages one of his wrists, kissing the red indention visible even in the moonlight.

He hesitates before whispering, “We're going to do that again, right?”

Buster's only answer is a hard kiss.


End file.
